A Very UnCharlie Brown Valentines Day
by Twilight Writing Contest
Summary: Entry 14: By EdBellaForever. "All Edward wants is for Bella to be his valentine. But will he ever work up the nerve to ask her?"


**Title: A Very Un-Charlie Brown Valentines Day**

**Summary: All Edward wants is for Bella to be his Valentine. But will he ever work up the courage to ask her?**

**Author: EdBellaForever**

**Will Be a Two Shot**

**(1)**

"Bella!" He calls, running as fast as his short legs can take him. "Bella, wait up!" He huffs, trying to catch his breath.

She finally turns around, giving him that trademark toothy grin of hers. That toothy grin that he loves.

"Edward! What took you so long! You were late. You had me _so_ worried. I thought you were sick!" She tells him, pouting.

"Sorry, Bella. My stupid brothers thought it would be hilarious if they didn't wake me up for school." He apologies, hoping that she smiles again. He wants her to be happy, no matter how cute she looks when she pouts.

They had an arrangement; Edward would meet Bella outside of her house everyday so they could walk to school together. After the annual "Stranger Danger" campaign at school, she had been hyper-vigilant, even taking it as far as to wear a whistle around her neck. He had told her he would protect her; she had smiled, of course, but insisted that "there were men that could knock the living daylights outta him in one punch."

She smiles again, and starts to skip, her dark pigtails bouncing as she hums.

"What are you so happy about?" He asked, eyebrows raised. He had never seen her so happy on a Tuesday. Unless it was mac n' cheese for lunch.

She looks back at him, her chocolate brown eyes wide. He loves looking in to her eyes; he compares them to chocolate orbs. God, he thinks, I sound like those sappy love novels my mom reads.

"Don't you know what tomorrow is?"

"Uh, February fourteenth?" He says, but it comes out as more as a question. Was it a trick question?

"Yeah. Don't you know what February fourteenth is?" She asks, this time her eyebrows are raised, her voice dripping with annoyance.

"Um, tomorrow?" He replies ignorantly. He searches his mind for important dates. Was it her birthday tomorrow? No, her birthday was September thirteenth at 7:53 p.m. Yes, he knew her exact birth date. He knew everything about her. Her favorite color was black, her favorite day of the week was Friday, and her favorite animal was a koala. He thought those were the rules of love; you should know everything about the object of your affection. He didn't tell her he knew everything about her though. He doesn't want her to think he's a stalker.

"Its Valentines Day!" She declares, with a _duh _voice.

"Oh, right, I, uh, I knew that." He fumbles, adjusting his glasses. How could he have been so stupid? It was her favorite holiday!

She continues humming; her eyes dreamy; her smile wide.

"What're you so happy about?" He asks again. What was so special about Valentines Day that made her look like she was floating on a cloud?

"My valentine is the dreamiest, hottest man to ever walk the earth, that's what." She replies matter-of-factly.

"Who is he?" He askes, his voice high. Please let it be me, he thinks. Please, let it be me!

"Robert Pattinson." She sighs dreamily, clasping her small hands together. Her eyes glisten with admiration. His heart begins to hurt. He wants her to look at _him_ that way.

"Oh," He replies, hurt in his voice. He wonders if she can see his hurt expression. "That loser? Bella, the guy looks like a hobo!"

She turns to him, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"He is _not!_ Take that back!" She yells, jabbing a finger in his face.

A smug smile dances across his lips, adding to her anger. "No."

She pounds her little fists into his chest. "Yes, Edward. Take that back!" She screams.

The punches don't hurt, but he acts like they do, just to please her. "Okay, fine. I take it back. But I thought you were in love with that Harry Potter guy."

She shakes her head. "No way! Daniel Radcliffe is so out. And besides, Jessica told me that it was lame to have the same Valentine two times in a row."

Jessica was the blonde-haired, blue eyed girl in their third grade class.

"Why would you listen to her?" He asks. She was probably the dumbest girl he knew. The only thing she had going for herself was her looks; and even those weren't that good. Well, to him, they weren't. He found that Bella was the most beautiful girl in their class, in the whole world, but of course, Bella didn't think that.

"Cause she knows everything about Valentines Day. She told me it was a Valentines Day rule not to have the same valentine." She answers simply, as if Jessica is the all knowing God.

"Who made that stupid rule." He rolls his eyes.

"God."

"I don't think God would make a rule like that." He answers. It was probably something Jessica had read in TigerBeat or whatever those teen girl magazines were called, he thinks.

"Well, he did. Anyways, I can't wait for the Valentines exchange tomorrow, even if my valentine isn't going to be there. Whose your valentine this year, Edward?"

He blushes, for he had completely forgotten about the exchange tomorrow. Every year, the kids in the class gave each other valentines and candy. The kids had even made mail boxes for their valentines to be put in. It was mandatory to give each student a valentine, but they boys always gave their valentines something extra special. Edward had never had a valentine; not that he would admit that to his best friend. Every year, his mom was his valentine. She found this adorable, while he, and his brothers, found it super lame.

"Uh, I dunno." He murmurs, studying the cracks in the side walk. He's too embarrassed to meet her eyes, for she'll know the truth. She could read him like a book. That was one of the many things he loved about Bella Swan.

"Well, you better find one quick. I'm sure plenty of girls want to be your valentine." She smiles, showing her dimples, causing him to smile. It was contagious.

He sighs. Can't she see that he wanted _her_ to be his valentine? No other girl would want _him._ And he didn't want any other girl.

His mind drifted to that stupid Charlie Brown special his mom made the family watch every year around Valentines Day. It was the one were Charlie Brown liked the little red-headed girl, but couldn't get the courage to ask her to the dance. He couldn't help but thinking he was in the same situation.

He _ did not_ want to end up like Charlie Brown.

* * *

><p><strong>(2)<strong>

He stands nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, buying himself some time.

He wipes one of his clammy hands on his shirt, the other clutching the home-made valentine.

Do I do it? He thinks to himself. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe this is a stupid idea.

The kids swarmed all around him, each one laughing as they deliver and receive their valentines. Edward had already seen some of the girls receive their cards from their valentines; their eyes had glistened with admiration as they read the card. He wanted Bella to read his card that way; he wanted her to look at him with that same glint.

He glances up at the clock. It was almost 3. He had five more minutes until class was over. Five more minutes to decide what to do.

He looks up at Bella's desk and watches as Mike deposits his valentine. Mike had always had a crush on Bella; but Bella never clearly reciprocated the feelings. Edward took comfort in that.

Bella makes her way to everyone's desks, stopping to talk to her friends every once in awhile. Angela is next to her, and Edward can't help but notice that Angela wears the same expression as him on her face; nervousness. Maybe she never had a valentine either.

Bella was far away from her desk. Now was his chance. He didn't want Bella to see him put the card in; or she'd immediately go read it. He studies the heart shaped red construction paper in his hand; wondering if it was good enough for Bella.

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I have loved you since the day we meeted. Every time I look at you, my heart does a flippity-flop. I know in my heart of hearts I will always love you; even if you don't love me back. If you don't love me back, that's ok. I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I hope this won't ruin or freindship. _

_Isabella Swan, will you be my valentine?_

_P.S. Even if you don't want to be my valentine, can you please not be Robert Pattinsons? He's already got all the girls, and plus he still looks like a hobo. If I were you, I'd stick with Daniel Radcliffe._

_Sincerely,_

_Edward Anthony Cullen._

He rereads the words over and over.

"All right class, finish up! It's almost time to go home!" The teacher claps.

Edward pulls the pack of Pixie-Sticks out of his pocket. They were Bella's favorite. The whole pack had cost a dollar; only leaving him with half of his allowance. He didn't care. If they made her happy, he'd buy her a million pixie sticks.

He takes a deep breath; like his mom does when she's stressed. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.

He walks to her desk; his legs shaking like Jello. He takes a minute to admire the way she decorated her mail box; foam pink and red hearts sprinkled with silver glitter. That made sense. Silver was her second favorite color.

He drops it into the box along with the candy, his heart beating a thousand miles per minute.

"Okay, kids. Pack up! It's time to leave!" The teacher calls.

The kids cheer happily as they run to their cubby holes, pulling out their backpacks and jackets.

'So, did you choose a valentine?" Bella's voice rings out as she stands next to Edward, struggling to zip up her wind breaker.

"Yep." He murmurs as he pulls his backpack on his shoulders.

She makes her way to her desk to collect her valentines, peering in the box at the treasures. She pulls one out; her eyebrows scrunched together.

Please don't let it be mine! He pleads. Please!

But it is. She reads the writing on the construction paper heart. When she's done, she looks up at Edward, a confused expression on her face.

Great. He thinks. I blew it. She doesn't want to be my valentine. What would make me think she wants to be my valentine? I only did this cause of that stupid Charlie Brown cartoon. I didn't want to end up like him, and now it's worse. She'll never want to speak to me again. I just lost my best friend.

The teacher dismisses the class, and Edward runs. He runs, hoping that he can make it away from the tears. But they catch up, and sting his eyes. Before he knows it, tears are spilling down his face. He sniffles, trying to make them go away. But they won't.

His heart is broken. He knows he's young; adults think that kids don't experience love, but he did. He was in love with his best friend, Bella Swan, like in those corny love movies his mom made his dad watch with her. But unlike those movies, he knew the ending wasn't going to be fine and dandy. He had lost his best friend, the only girl he'd ever love.

He begins speed walking, his feet pounding hard on the side walk. He just wants to go home; where he can cry in solitude. What if she laughed in his face? He'd never be able to face her again.

"Edward!" Her musical voice calls out. He had always loved her voice; it was his favorite song. He'd listen to it all day.

He can hear her heavy breathing and her backpack as it flops against her back. The sweet smell of strawberry wafts to his nose. He inhales deeply. It was her shampoo, and he loved the smell of it.

He turns to face her, trying to dry his tears. He didn't want her to know he had been crying. But she already knows.

"Bella," He stammers, not looking into her eyes. He can't handle that. "You don't have to be my friend anymore. I'd understand.." His voice trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. It's a lie. He won't be okay if she isn't his friend anymore. He'll have no one.

"You're right," She says confidently. "I don't want to be your friend."

The sting of those words hurt him more than anything had ever before. They pierce through him, ripping a whole in his chest.

The warm tears start falling again as he turns arounf to go home.

"Wait!" She yells, taking his hand. He loves the feel of it. He hand is so warm, so soft, so delicate...

"I don't want to be your _friend._ I want to be your valentine." She smiles.

The realization of her words hit him. _She wants to be my valentine. She wants to be my valentine. _All the sudden, the wound is gone; his heart isn't broken, in fact, its working quite well. It hammers in his chest.

"Really? I though you liked Robert Pattinson."

She gives him a half smile and laughs. "You're right, he does look like a hobo. But that's not the only reason I don't like him."

"What's the other reason?"

"He's not you." She whispers, and as soon as those words leave her soft pink lips, he feels like fainting. He couldn't believe this was real.

"I've liked you for so long, Bella."

She nods. "I've liked you too, only I've been too stupid to realize it until you gave me that card. It was so pretty, Edward! And I was thinking we could share the pixie sticks!"

He smiles widely. She did like the card. He remembered feeling so nervous... but he was glad he did it. Or otherwise this wouldn't be happening. "So, you're my valentine this year?"

"I guess so." She looks at him with that glint in her eyes. That glint he had wanted to see for so long. That glint of admiration. And it was all for him.

They stand awkwardly for a moment. Then she does it.

She leans in, her face close to his. He can feel her warm breath. They each close their eyes, and then it happens. They kiss.

He thinks about that cartoon again, and remembers the ending. Snoopy had given Charlie Brown a valentine card at the end of the episode. They never said who it was from... but now Edward had an idea. It was from the little red headed girl. Maybe Charlie Browns Valentines Day hadn't been so bad.

And in that moment, as he kisses the girl of his dreams, his valentine, he makes a mental note to go home and thank Charlie Brown.

_"I know I'm the sort of person she'd like. I'm not the greatest person who ever lived, of course, but who is? I'm just a nice sort of a guy who never gets to meet little red-haired girls."_

_-Charlie Brown_


End file.
